New meds and takeout

So - I lasted two hours. Much better than I thought. I'm sure the beers helped. Am I even supposed to be drinking alcohol? I just clutched those ice-cold mood enhancers and totally steered clear of any woman with an extended belly. I managed to eek out a "how are you? We've been so busy! Nice party!" to the host. And then scampered away and hid in the corner of the backyard with all the dads. Way fewer hormonal fluctuations there. For the record, there was the candy bar diaper game, as well as a beer-in-the-bottle chugging/sucking contest (for the boys) and a guess-the-baby-food-flavor game - both new to me.

The Follistim/Menopur addition to the lineup last night was kinda stressful. Why do they have to make everything so difficult? Each medicine has its own little protocol - different needles, different caps, different pens, mixing, pulling, pinching. I dropped one of the needles - narrowly missing my big toe. It wasn't fun at all. The dogs were jumping around me, wanting to play with all the shiny bottles and wrappers. But, got through it. Just a few tears and a few moments of anxiety. The bruises have started, though.

Big B is currently ripping the floor out of the kitchen. We made a deal at the beginning of the summer that I wouldn't nag about the never ending supply of projects that come along with a 1935 home, if I could at least get a new kitchen floor before October. The former one was white linoleum that had dirt ground into all the little crevices. There was absolutely no getting it clean. And with the back door in the kitchen, and the dogs trekking in and out, I was mopping at least two times a week (emphasis on the "I"). Soooo...we're (he's) putting in dark-ish brown tile. I vow to not mop unless my feet are literally sticking to the floor. It should be about four times a year. Awesome. And I can't really help. No heavy lifting! And, I can't cook 'cuz the stove and fridge are disconnected. Hmmm - Chinese or Thai?

Diaper Pin Games and Bitterness

I have a baby shower tomorrow. I really don't want to go. I mean really. When I got the evite, I actually thought - how fun! A shower! But, as the days, hours, minutes, get closer, I am wondering what kind of pretend world I was living in when I checked the "I'm Coming" box and hit SEND.

When I took a moment to think about what actually happens at a baby shower, my blood went cold. I immediately started choking up. Of course this realization happened at work (and, ya know, it's getting harder and harder to come up with excuses why my eyes are teary all the time). All the little comments: "are you getting nervous?", "better sleep while you can!", "You look so beautiful!" "what are you going to name it?" "Natural, or C-section?" blah blah blah blah. All the questions I've been dying to have someone ask me! I've been waiting almost two years for someone to throw me a party with little diaper pins every time someone says "baby," or rifling through the contents of your purse to see who has the most crap, or diapers filled with melted candy bars that you have to I.D. I want that party! I want to be waiting just a few weeks to bring my little sweet pea home. I want to celebrate a new life inside of me.

I know I'm just going to break apart. Maybe while I'm shoveling appetizers down my gullet to keep my mind off of the girl with the ginormous stomach, or downing my third glass of Chardonnay in five minutes to dull my senses. My eyes will well up and my lips will start quivering, and my face will turn red, and I'll have to excuse myself while everyone stares and then looks at each other with that "oooohhhhh poor thing she's the infertile one" look, for about three seconds until they turn back to their never ending comments on baby names and I'm left to collect myself alone.

What makes it even harder, is that my friend who's throwing it (also the wife of my husband's best friend) is expecting, too. They decided to "start trying" about four months ago (right after my miscarriage), and she got pregnant the second "try." I know I should be thrilled for her, but I'm not! I'm jealous, and bitter, and resentful. And sad. I've been avoiding her like the plague. Her husband told my husband that they "want to be there for us" as we're going through IVF, and they "want to support us," but they can't! How can they empathize or even sympathize when they got pregnant on the second try! The second try! With nothing but a thermometer in hand. How can I possibly share my deepest fears and struggles with someone who is expecting her own "miracle?"

So, back to the baby shower. I have to face not just the pregnant shower benefactor, but the shower-thrower, too. And bring an appetizer. And a gift. Which leads me to my really great time at the ToysRButts this afternoon. It was so awesome. Seeing all those baby things and kids things towering around me. Aisles and aisles of stuff with families throwing it in their carts like its just another day. With new mommies and tiny babies taking on their first outings.

As I looked at her registry, I thought about how much time she and her husband probably thought about each and every item. Should we get the cream colored sheets, or the sage colored sheets? The bottles recommended by pediatricians or the bottles recommended by orthodontists? Again, the resentment, the bitterness, the pain. Again with the tears. I ended up buying the most benign items on the registry. Ya know, crib sheets, receiving blankets, fingernail clippers.

Plus I'm just a wee-bit emotional. Just a tad. And I start Follistim and Medrol tonight. Can't wait to see what lovely side-effects those two add to the who shebang. I'm such a whiner. I'm so self-centered. I'm wallowing in self-pity.